Tom Braveheart
by E.C.Florek
Summary: My story began in September of last year, when the Gobblers first came to Oxford. My father, who knew what was really going on with the Oblation Board, sent me to an Anglish Colony in the Hindies.


Author's note: Takes place right after the Amber Spyglass, right after Lyra said "The Republic of Heaven". Be gentle! It's my first time!

Disclaimer: I own nothing except Tom Braveheart. Wait a minute. I own this text too.

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Tom Braveheart

She sat still for a few seconds, enjoying the cool night air. She was remembering the first time she met Will, when a loud voice interrupted her thoughts.

"I can't believe this, Lys! It's the first time, and we're gonna be late!"

Lyra sat up in time to see a boy of her own age and his ferret-daemon running up the path leading to the bench, _their_ bench. Annoyance flew through her. How dared this boy to barge in?

The boy in question didn't seem much happier than her to meet someone else. Now that he was closer, Lyra took a good look at him. He had dark blond hair, much like hers, and had the tan of a person who went to the Hindies quite recently. He was tempted to turn around and leave when he saw her, but, resolute, he marched on and sat on the bench, as far from Lyra as he could manage. They both sat in uneasy silence for a few minutes, daemons close to their humans, warily examining each other.

"What are you doing here? And at this hour?" the boy gruffly asked her. Lyra was surprised to hear he had the Oxford accent.

"Can't I calmly sit on a bench?" she replied in the same tone.

Under a closer inspection, she recognized him as the son of a Saint-Michael scholar, with whom she had fought against the clayburners'. The only reason Lyra remembered him was because scholars weren't meant to have offspring, and he was a rarely spoken about exception. She couldn't, however, recall his name.

"Aren't you that son of scholar from Saint-Michael's College?"

"Yes," he replied miserably. "But I'm an orphan now. My father died during the Rebellion." He looked away from Lyra. "Anyway, my name's Tom Braveheart now, and she's Illys."

But Lyra's undying curiosity was aroused.

"What do you mean, _now_?"

Tom Braveheart straightened proudly.

"The king of lions named me that," he said pompously. "After I bravely saved his life."

Pan made a weird choking noise. Illys the ferret narrowed her eyes at him.

"It's true! I would tell the whole story, but we'd still be here next morning, and I have to go back to Saint-Michael's." He paused and stared at her, as if looking to see if she could be trusted.

"Do you want me to tell a shorter version of it?"

Not knowing what to say, Lyra nodded politely. Tom Braveheart took a deep breath and began.

"My story starts in September of last year. When the Gobblers first came to Oxford, my father knew what was really going on with the Oblation Board and the Consistorial Court of Discipline, and sent me to an Anglish colony in the Hindies. He knew some scholar there. After a while, the Hindian bloke sold me out to the Oblation Board anyway. I ended up in Bolvangar. An Afric Bolvangar in the middle of the desert, 'cos I heard of the one up North."

By now, Lyra was hanging on his every word. But the boy, lost in his memories, did not realize this.

"I didn't stay long though, although I'm sure I haven't stayed more than two weeks. After a while, I had managed to discover what _they_ did to the disappearing children."

It was only then that he stopped and turned to face Lyra with an expression of fury and disgust.

"Do you know _they_ did to the children? To us?"

Lyra's reply was a small and shy one, although she was well-informed on that particular subject.

"Yes, they separated you from your daemons," she said, not adding it almost happened to her.

"Exactly. It's inhuman! Your daemon is a part of you! You can't live without a daemon!" He was nearly shaking with suppressed anger.

"Not precisely," Lyra cut in, with a little more courage this time. "You _can_ live, but you become soulless, without any willful thought or action. And that is worse that death," she ended dramatically.

He stared in empty space for a while, eyes shimmering with lost memories, before continuing.

"We burned the whole place down, me an' Illys. Then, a tribe of lions attacked us while we were fleeing back North. But not the lions we know of. White telepathic lions with gleaming red eyes. I was captured once more."

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Well, there was my first story. Hope you enjoyed it. I may or may not do other stories about Tom Braveheart, I don't know yet. I do have another idea though… IT WILL NOT BE A LOVE STORY BETWEEN LYRA AND TOM, YA HEAR?


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